Two days, one even spent stopped at the latest island for supplies, and she hadn't seen one blonde hair of the man. Admittedly, she had been avoiding the galley, not looking forward to having to speak about the incident in the kitchen. She hadn't been that hungry either over the last couple of days. Perhaps she really had driven him off. Nibbling on her lip in irritation, she threw the towel she had brought up across the long seat ringing the room and moved to the weapon's rack. Selecting two gleaming daggers, she cleared a space in the center of the room. Tiri's motions appeared smooth, practiced, as she adopted a stance, one arm raised above her right shoulder and the other closer to her hip.

She listened, the day quiet except for the sound of the waves crashing into the hull, the occasional squawk, and Luffy's playful yelling as he chased Usopp around the ship. She swept the blades as she pivoted, the hand postures reversed. Then, a jab to the right, left, spun, thrust back, high kick….

The motions increased in speed, power as she danced through one routine, then another. Her limbs flowed, tossing the daggers high as she let her eyes drift shut, listening to the rhythm of her body. Deftly, she caught them. Something invaded on her senses, though. Tiri could feel a presence, left?

No, near the doorway.

Viciously, she twisted her upper body, flinging the daggers and they spun end over end before thudding dully into the wall. Mercurial eyes opened to see the hilts quivering, as the cause of her unrest stood with a mildly amused expression, a cigarette between his lips and a tray of food in his hands.

"If you didn't want something to eat, you could have just said something," he joked, his lips twitching and she bit her own lip to keep from giggling.

"Would you have listened to me if I had?" she asked with a small smile.

She walked across the room, her hips swaying gently and she could have sworn she saw his eyes flicker down to follow their rolling motion, but she wasn't certain. Instead, she tugged on the blades, pulling them free from their wooden sheathe and returning them to the rack as Sanji set down the tray on the seat that curved around the walls.

"Really, Tiri-san, do you think I would ignore the request of a lady?" he asked, the twinkle in his eye in direct contrast to the offended scowl he displayed.

"Possibly, it depends on your motivations," she teased and he held a hand to his heart, as if wounded.

She laughed quietly, settling cross-legged on the floor and pulling the tray towards her, delighted at the delicious aromas wafting to her nose. Tiri gestured to the seat nearby and Sanji accepted her invitation, gazing out the window with a cigarette between his fingers, raising it to his lips occasionally to take a drag. Well, maybe she hadn't made a complete idiot of herself after all. That thought was naturally followed by the one that said she was an idiot for worrying about the whole thing like some kind of moonstruck teenager. She scowled, noting that she was just an idiot no matter how she thought about it. She pecked at her food, still not really hungry, but eating for Sanji's sake. After all, he was trying to take care of her, even if she neglected herself at times. Feeling that she had eaten as much as possible, she set the tray aside and rose.

"Thank you, Sanji-kun, it was lovely."

He eyed her then and she was a little unnerved by the stoic aspect of his gaze as he looked down at her hardly touched lunch then back up at her. Why did she have the sneaking suspicion that his perceptive side was about to make an appearance and that she was going to like it less and less as the days went by? Letting out a stream of smoke, he flicked the butt of his cigarette out the window and stood, his hands in his pockets.

"You didn't finish," he said quietly, the low tone causing a shiver to chase down her spine.

"I'm full," she protested, patting her midriff with a large, fake smile before turning away to resume her practice, determined for that to be the end of the conversation.

Suddenly he was in front of her, a slender finger poking her in the belly with a bored expression.

"You're not going to be very effective in a fight with an empty stomach," he murmured with a glint in his eye. Apparently he wasn't going to take no for an answer either.

Damn the man and his sneaky astuteness.

"I'm fine, Sanji, thank you," she groused, stepping back and smoothly somersaulting away, "Now let me work."

Her only warning was the scent of cigarette smoke drifting in the air.

Tiri braced her feet, closing her eyes and breathed deeply. She exhaled and lifted her leg in a high kick, but was stunned when she felt resistance. Silvery eyes popped open to see her knee embedded in his chest. She swiftly withdrew, her face heating in embarrassment, though she couldn't exactly say why.

"Oi, what's the big idea?" she asked, her voice so high that it sounded like a squeak.

His eyes had taken on a strange look and he crossed his arms, bending his head briefly before raising it again.

"You didn't finish," he repeated, nearly growling and she took a step back, the fierceness of his tone surprising her.

Instinct kicked in and she turned blindly on her heel, scooting back across the room, but she wasn't fast enough. Sanji appeared in front of her and she skidded to a stop.

"How-" she didn't get to ask the question, her brain working faster than her mouth and she darted left.

He mirrored her movement, reaching out with one hand to wrap it firmly around her wrist while the other arm snaked its way around her waist, pulling her slightly smaller frame to him. Tiri found herself flush against him, effectively pinned in place and unable to move. For a man that relied on his legs to fight, he had a surprisingly strong grip. If she had stopped to think about it, the situation would have probably struck her as incredibly humorous. As it was, as soon as their bodies touched, she found herself unable to form a complete thought, the heat emanating from him in waves immensely distracting and driving the ability clear out of her head.

"Sanji," she said huskily, confused by the anger she could see etched into his features.

"You barely eat, you're constantly on edge, and you've been avoiding me for two days," he said with a low voice, one that held an edge to it that bit deep, "Do you deny it?"

"I-I-," she stammered, unable to neither deny the accusations nor find an appropriate answer.

To admit to it would be admitting that she was afraid. To refute it would be a lie. What should she say? What could she say? She could no longer meet his gaze, dipping her head to hide both the burning crimson of her cheeks and the emotions she knew were churning in her eyes. Silently, he tipped her chin back up, his thumb gently stroking against the curve of her jaw.

"What was it that you promised to me? Will you now break that promise?" he asked, his voice rough and she shook her head vigorously.

"Its…hard, for me to talk to anyone about what goes on in my head," she whispered, her eyes still not meeting his, "even to you, Sanji-kun."

This was not a lie, but a carefully constructed truth. It was hard for her to speak her thoughts to someone else, even though she had found it easy to talk with Sanji about almost anything. But did he need to know the way his smile made her stomach flip or how electricity seemed to shock her when their fingers had touched? Did he need to know that he was starting to invade her dreams?

"I know I said I wouldn't make you tell me what bothered you, but can you tell me why?"

His question broke her reverie. She shook her head again, biting her lip.

He let out a breath, releasing her chin and nodding sadly.

"I suppose I'll have to accept that for now."

Her chest ached at the pained expression on his face. The realization hit her then that he trusted her; trusted her implicitly and she had let him down in that regard by breaking the promise she had made to him. That knowledge coupled with guilt and she could feel her body almost wilting under the weight of it. She had wronged him and they both knew that. What surprised her, though, as she lifted her head to look into his face, was the lack of judgment, the acceptance he had granted her as blatant as the first day they had met. Still, she had hurt him, never mind that it was unintentional. He deserved better than that, a better friend than her.

Without thinking, she touched her hand to his cheek, feeling the stubble rasping against her palm. He really was a sweet man. Sanji looked down at her with wonder as her silver eyes met the one she could make out through the blond strands.

"Tiri-chan," he murmured and she tilted her head a little.

Then, still refusing to think it through, she stood on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his cheek softly. He made a sound of surprise, his eyes widening and stood very still. His hands settled on the curve of her waist as she moved her lips to his other cheek, pressing them softly there. It was hesitant, but full of an emotion that Tiri had no words for. Her fingers came to rest against his chest, curling into the lapels of his jacket. Her heart was pounding and she vaguely registered that his was beating just as hard. She heard his breath catch when her lips feathered against his jaw as she drew back.

It was at that moment that the sharp odor of blood wafted into her awareness and she swiftly broke away from him, grabbing a napkin from her tray and pressing it quickly to his nose. His breathing was a little uneven, as was hers, at just that brief contact, though his face was probably a much deeper shade of red. Sanji opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

"I'm sorry," she said breathlessly, before a twinkle began to dance in her eye, "Apology accepted?"

"Yes, I think so," he replied after clearing his throat, "Now will you please eat the rest of your food? So I stop worrying and you can fight properly when the time comes?"

Shaking her head at his single-minded persistence, she agreed. Once she was certain the bleeding had stopped, she lowered her hand and sat down to finish the meal he had prepared for her. Sanji nodded, his mission accomplished and he left down the ladder with a pleased smile. Tiri chewed thoughtfully, for once allowing her mind to explore the avenues it desired. Something that she had rarely indulged in, as the trains of thought usually wandered down paths she would rather not discover in any depth. Well, at least the weight in the pit of her stomach had lifted. Maybe a little too high, she suspected, by the fluttering sensation that was lingering even after he had disappeared down the hatch. Shaking away the contemplative mood and the aftermath of another impulsive move abruptly, she rose and retrieved the daggers she had been training with.

Tiri easily fell back into her routine, playfully flipping forward and before, she knew it, she was performing tumbles and somersaults with a huge grin, enjoying herself immensely. She justified herself that she needed to keep limber. As she indulged in a handstand walk across the room, she happened to glance in the direction of the hatch, freezing when she saw a moss-colored head watching her with a smirk.

"Fancy, but hardly effective," he said with his eye closed and his head bowed in a sage-like manner.

She scowled, finding her feet and wiping sweat from her forehead. Certain ignoring him would make him go away, she still couldn't resist firing back,

"It wasn't meant to impress you."

"Obviously," he replied with a bored expression.

Tiri lifted her daggers and proceeded to resume her initial training with her back to him, closing her eyes once more. As she moved to strike before her, she was met with resistance, a sharp clash of metal screeching in her ears. Her eyes snapped open and she drug her dagger down the katana blocking her, slipping beneath it neatly and thrusting forward. Another katana blocked the move and she jumped back. He held a blade in each hand, that damnable smirk still playing around his lips. She glared at him and straightened, wary.

"What do you want, Bonehead?" she growled at him, anger rising in her chest, making her cheeks flush.

"Let's see how much of a challenge you really are," he replied, shouldering one sword with a shit-eating grin and setting her teeth on edge.

"Apparently, you don't think I'm much of one," she snapped and he shrugged.

"I'm bored."

He blinked when she melted into petals, the lilac fragments swirling around him as he looked around, his guard instantly going up. Sensing an attack from behind, he turned, blades crossed, just as two razor sharp daggers swept down. Sparks flew and he glowered at the cheap shot.

"Far be it for me to disappoint you then," she snarled, slipping away once more, leaving behind a soft floral scent.

The petals spun away, flitting across his face and he was momentarily blinded. Not enough to lower his guard, however and he met her next strike, only her hands and the daggers they held solid.

He yawned. "I'm still bored," he drawled lazily.

She didn't take the bait as the rest of her materialized. She was smiling sweetly and he raised a brow, his face adopting its usual grumpy expression. Without warning, she broke their lock, disappearing in a flurry of petals and flew past him and he cursed at the bug-like stings as they touched his exposed flesh. She solidified again, idly tossing one knife up and down. He wiped at one cheek with an arm, seeing tiny red dots speckling the sleeve of his robe.

Her lips were curved as he looked back up to her. The expression had changed and he started to grin at her in earnest. Tiri frowned and tilted her head, quickly assuming a defensive posture at that look. He shrugged out of the sleeves, letting it fall around his waist.

"What's so funny, Bonehead?" she queried.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling laugh that made a tingle of trepidation trail down her spine.

"I'm not bored anymore."

Tiri took a step back, the glint in his eye as he grinned at her a barely harnessed wildness. For the first time, she understood exactly what she had been provoking all this while.

Ah, well, when had she backed away from poking the proverbial Sea King in the eyeball?

Her gaze narrowed as she shifted her stance, feet braced far apart. She stepped left, slowly circling her opponent as his predatory gaze lazily followed her movements. Twisting at her waist, she led with her right.

He disappeared before her eyes.

She stopped short, head whipping back and forth frantically. Instinctively, she spun, blocking with crossed daggers as he struck from behind. The force of the blow sent her flying backwards, and she stabbed the points of her blades into the floor, leaving two deep grooves as she slowed to a stop just before slamming into the wall. There was a deep gash on her left arm. The trickle of blood was hot against her skin and she grimaced. Her breath was coming in short gasps but he didn't even look like he had exerted any effort.

Bastard.

Wincing, she shakily stood, the left dagger clattering to the floor uselessly. Tiri still managed to glare as she turned her back, dropping the other knife and moved to grab the towel she had brought with her. Swiftly, she wrapped her arm and flexed the makeshift bandage experimentally, scowling at the strange feel of slightly exposed muscle. She turned to him then and wasn't surprised to see that cranky expression on his face. Zoro sheathed his katanas and walked over to her.

Tiri jumped when he grabbed her arm and unwrapped the wound.

"H-Hey, you Bonehead, what're you-"she started to ask.

"Shut up, witch, and let me see," he interrupted, sliding his hand to her wrist and tugging her forward as he sat on the bench.

She stood between his knees as he leaned close to take a good look, close enough that she could feel the breath he exhaled tickling her arm. Her cheeks were hot from embarrassment, but he didn't seem to notice the flush staining them. His grip was firm, but not uncomfortable. He turned her limb gently, inspecting the red gash before rewrapping it and tying it tightly.

"You should know better than to try that kind of defense with someone who's reach is longer than yours," he scolded her as his hands finished their task.

"It was instinct," she protested as he let her arm drop and she snatched it to her chest like he had burned her.

"Your instincts need to give you better directions," he muttered, leaning back with his arms tucked behind his head.

"Like you have any room to talk about instincts and directions?" she shot back with a glare.

He didn't deem it worth the effort to retort, apparently, so she let it go.

"Are you offering what it sounds like," she queried, uncertain whether to be relieved that he was making an attempt at civility or insulted that he didn't consider her worth the time to really fight.

She decided on relief. Being irked at him wasn't going to be helpful.

"Come on, witch, you need to learn how to handle a blade if you're going to be any help in a fight," he grumbled at her as he stood, reaching down to give her daggers to her hilt first.

"I can handle blades just fine, Bonehead. I made you bleed," she protested.

"Maybe so, but that wasn't the weapons of your hands," he replied, nudging her foot with his, making her shift her position.

"Keep your feet wide apart, braced. Make sure your balance is centered. More than that, make sure your stance is firm. Picture yourself as a carving of stone," he spoke in a softer tone now, coaxing her to follow his instructions with gentle prodding.

"I know this part," she growled impatiently.

"Apparently not, idiot, if I could push you back so easily."

Alright, she had to give him that. Resisting the urge to mutter under her breath, she relaxed as he circled her, inspecting her stance critically. Then she tensed again, as she felt his hands move to her hips from behind, shifting her, then moving to her shoulders.

"Stop slouching, hunched over like that doesn't protect your vitals at all," he chided her, holding one hand at her hip to keep her lower body still, while the other brushed away the curls draped from her ponytail to tug at her shoulder.

She followed the touch, straightening her back and pushing her shoulders back. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder with a frown.

"I feel exposed standing like this," she groused, but his raised brow silencing her objections.

He moved back to stand in front of her, lifting a brow with a smirk.

"You're hardly exposed at the moment," he said, apparently having noticed her t-shirt and long pants, the look making her scowl at him irritably.

Theirs was not going to be a companionable relationship, this she could easily discern.

Zoro nudged the back of her knee with the hilt of his katana and she stirred, while his left hand reached over to guide hers to cover her chest. The other hand he moved to rise above her head.

"Always have one hand on guard. The way you fight, you'll need more defense than I would," he muttered and she glared at the wall petulantly. That sounded dangerously close to an insult. He was speaking again and she tried to pay attention.

"Now, your right hand is dominant, despite being ambidextrous, so keep it forwards," he continued.

"No shit," she griped and his hand reached around to the flesh of her arm and pinched, making her squeak.

"Pay attention, witch, you might learn something," he retorted with a snort.

"Not likely," she whispered and jumped when he pinched her again.

"Be quiet. Now, follow my lead."

She obeyed as he took up a position, thrusting her right arm forward, before slowly pivoting.

"Very good, now step here," he murmured and she shadowed him, their bodies working in almost seamless synchronization.

The sun traveled slowly across the sky as they trained, her body flowing in time to his.

"These motions feel familiar," she said quietly as he manipulated her body through sight into learning the techniques he attempted to teach her.

"Really?" he asked, his tone flat as he concentrated, only half hearing her words.

"Yes," she replied as she thrust her arms back, "it's like when I float on the breeze as petals. The currents move me to their whim, but…"

She trailed off.

"What?" They moved to the left, twisting her upper body in a dodge.

"But," she continued with a small smile, "the currents still serve my purpose."

He nodded.

"You understand turning the environment to your advantage. You should know, though, that it can't always be the case."

"I do know that, you Bonehead," she snarled, still following his movements.

"Apparently you don't, if that provocation pissed you off that much."

Point two to the swordsman, dammit.

"Alright, so I'm not the most experienced," she admitted.

"You'll learn," was the clipped response.

She smiled then, ridiculously pleased that he at least thought she had potential.

It was Tiri's turn to watch that night, so she took a plate of food up to the crow's nest and neatly balanced on the rail on her haunches. It was a habit she had since childhood. Cupping her chin in her hands, she watched the darkening horizon, her eyes taking in the sight even as her mind was busy elsewhere.

At least she had learned a few new moves she could practice. Maybe, after a few days, she could approach the bonehead to teach her more, though she wasn't certain that he would want to. Then her thoughts turned to Sanji, her fingers unconsciously tracing the contours of her lips. Tiri groaned, burying her face in her hands. This was only going to make waves amongst the others; she knew it, whatever this was. She breathed deeply and raised her eyes back to the line where sky met sea. It was better to face difficulties in the light of day; they didn't seem so overwhelming then.

Tiri nibbled on a piece of fruit as she scanned the sky. Nami warned that the atmosphere was perfect for a storm. She saw it then, the clouds gathering to the east and she whistled low and loud, leaning over to look down at the deck. She could see Franky burst out of the door leading to the engine room.

"Oi, Franky! Nami was right, it's coming!" she yelled over the rising wind.

He shouted something back at her but, she couldn't hear him. She just shook her head and retreated to climb down the ladder. There was no time for thinking, just action and she bolted across the wooden deck, the pounding of her boots matching the dull thud of her heartbeat as adrenaline kicked in. Lightning struck out of nowhere, a crackle of powerful energy that blasted out of the sky to hit the wooden deck in front of her. She let out a scream as light blinded her, throwing herself backwards out of harm's way. She landed on her back, the wind knocked out of her. Thunder roared overhead, but when she blinked, she couldn't see anything.

Panicked, she sat up, feeling around sightlessly, her hand touching a wall, she thought. Standing on wobbly legs, she let her hand stay on the wood and she never touched air. Yes, it was the wall. There was no way that she could climb down though, not blind, it was too easy to slip and fall right into the churning sea, a sure death. She couldn't transform either; the gusts from the storm were too forceful, blowing her curls across her face. Cursing under her breath, she followed the curve of the wall.

Suddenly large hands were on her shoulders, gripping hard and she was lifted off her feet and jerked sideways and into someone's arms.